


The Art of Self-Destruction and Other Fun Life-Hacks

by nonsensicalbelle



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, F/M, Kid Fic, M/M, Minor Character Death, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Uncle Clint Barton, being a parent is scary, dad!Steve Rogers, everyone essentially becomes a wolf pack, everyone is the fun weird aunt/uncle, it's quick and painless i swear, steve rogers needs to ask for help
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 07:42:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14848565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonsensicalbelle/pseuds/nonsensicalbelle
Summary: He left his phone on the kitchen counter and walked across his apartment before, as quietly as possible, slipping into the dimly lit room. His tired eyes were glued to the month old baby sleeping soundly in the crib that still smelt like Ikea.“Buck’s gonna’ kill me.” He murmurs as he reaches over and runs his thumb over the child’s pink cheeks. “It’s just you and me, kid.”





	1. hush can't you see what is there (don't wake the lost)

**Author's Note:**

> it was only a matter of time before this happened.  
> i've written about 15k already and decided to make it a multi-chapter fic bc it could turn out very long and i crave affirmation eyo  
> this first chapter is sad, see end notes for any triggers/spoilers, it gets happier i swear, hang in there  
> let me know what you think, feedback literally powers my inner demon author  
> alongside track to help you cry & helped me write:  
> Hush - Dotan // also was the inspo for the chap title

Steve Rogers cared. He cared since day one. Since he stopped the older kids picking on the younger ones in the orphanage and got a busted lip and scraped knees for his trouble. He could still remember his Mother, a vague rose-tinted memory that was held precious in his heart. If there was one thing Sarah Rogers had instilled in her son it was the importance of caring.

When Bucky came along it didn’t change. For the first time in a long time Steve had a person who was _his_ to care about. Bucky had dived headfirst into a lunch money related debate – Steve had butt his nose in, refusing to back down even after taking punch after punch from guys twice his size with half of his brain cells. It didn’t help matters that in his mission to take care of everyone around him Steve left no thought for himself.

Being smaller and more sickly than most kids he should have been being extra careful but it was like the universe had plonked him in a weak body and dared him to keep his head down. And Steve Rogers wasn’t scared of _anything_. Bucky found himself trailing around after the kid, mopping up blood, patching up scrapes, kicking down bullies before he’d even turned fourteen. Bucky’s Mother warmed to Steve instantly and he got away with an annoying amount of shit. He couldn’t blame her though – tiny orphan kid with a heart of gold and a stubborn streak a mile wide, certainly hooked Bucky in quick enough.

However, Steve was Bucky’s exception – he didn’t branch out any further into caring about people than that. But Steve walked around seeking out people to help and couldn’t ignore an injustice, big or small. More often than not, this brought trouble. Not just in the form of bloody elbows and black eyes. Steve wouldn’t hesitate to call out a teacher who was picking on a student and would march stubbornly to the front office to await punishment, refusing to apologise.

The only time his resolve waned was in the face of Winifred Barnes. Bucky’s Mother would collect them both from school and would tear up when she saw Steve’s face all cut up and he would hang his head and mumble an apology, scuffing his feet. Bucky could rarely get that response from him. There was one occasion when Bucky on his walk home found Steve half buried in a pile of leaves after jumping in on a group of boys who had been kicking a dog and he’d been left beat up worse than Bucky had ever seen him before. He’d taken Steve straight to the hospital because he wasn’t breathing right and was mumbling about his Mom.

Luckily, it had looked worse than it was but that didn’t mean it wasn’t bad. They’d patched him up and he had a broken wrist, bruised ribs and was black and blue. When Bucky took him home he couldn’t help but ball Steve out, half-fury, half-absolute-terror that the body in the leaves wouldn’t be breathing next time and he’d unleashed hell on his friend. Steve had melted in tears, clinging to his friend, apologies flowing so fast and earnest Bucky felt immediately awful, clinging right back. It was clear early on Steve didn’t have the capacity to see his own worth in other’s eyes. And there was a tiny part of him that believed if he helped enough people he would deserve to be loved and being left in the orphanage wasn’t his fault.

Steve Rogers cared about everyone and Bucky cared about Steve Rogers.

As they grew up, Steve forced himself to work out and by the time they were both ready to enlist, he wasn’t the skinny sack of bones Bucky had first met. Steve was fearless going into the armed services as an openly bisexual man, angrily protesting for LGBTQ rights and raised quickly through the ranks as he commanded respect and had a remarkably astute tactical mind, rising to Captain after just four years. Meanwhile, Bucky had been spotted as a sniper talent early on and had kept his head down, training hard and letting his skills speak for themselves. He was placed in a specialist stealth unit and put in a lot of time to become one of the best sharpshooters in the country.

Over the course of six years they did as good a job as they could at keeping contact. They got leave at the same time whenever they could, finding it easier to get time off for Bucky’s birthday in March rather than Steve’s in July and celebrated both together, they only missed one year and skyped drunk.

Turned out Steve saw Bucky’s Mother more than he did, something he never heard the end of. Still, it was nice to know Steve was checking up on her when Bucky couldn’t. He knew she spent a lot of time with his Aunts but he still worried about her. Somewhere during the first three years they were serving on different continents, Steve met Peggy. He mentioned her on their calls enough that Bucky demanded details. He listened with a smile that kind of hurt his face as Steve finally confessed and talked a mile a minute about Peggy and her wit and her strength and her intelligence and her goddamn eyes.

She sounded like she must be perfect and Bucky felt like kind of an asshole for hating her a little because Steve could only seem to talk about Peggy. By the time he’d done gushing they’d ran out of time. Eventually Steve brought her to talk to Bucky, even through the bad signal pixilation she looked gorgeous and Steve stared at her like she was the sun. She was smart enough to see Bucky was hesitant with her and after a few skype calls came up with an excuse to talk to Bucky on her own.

He’d been in a halfway house in Capetown right by the coast ready to ship out the next morning and be without communication with Steve for at least three weeks. Peggy managed to get him alone and essentially pummelled him with genuine interest, kindness but not a hint of insincerity. She was intelligent – Bucky found it impossible not to like her when they started laughing about the way Steve couldn’t dance to save his life. Steve had returned with a face of faux-suspicion that was a poor mask hiding his absolute delight that he and Peggy were getting along.

Bucky took it a little easier after that – pushing himself into his work, if that was taking it easy? Whether it twisted knots in his stomach or not, Steve was happy and Peggy was good for him and more than worthy of Steve which was a hard thing to achieve in Bucky’s eyes.

In distraction, he tried to forget about Steve for a bit, really sinking into his missions, his skill as a sniper unparalleled and not far behind was his hand-to-hand combat which he threw himself into as a stress relief. He even got a commendation – it was just a dumb decorative thing for a mission Bucky could barely remember but Steve beamed at him so bright when he held the medal up in the grainy webcam image.

They met up back home for Bucky’s birthday again – he was turning 25 and for some reason this meant there had to be a party. He was going to be 25 and his Mother was stressing about smiley-face balloons when he walked in. She hugged him so tightly Bucky’s throat closed up a little because it was like she sensed something was off.

“He’s out back.” His Mom smiled and Bucky grinned, kissing her on the cheek and going off to find his friend.

Surprisingly, or maybe not surprisingly since Bucky’s Mom was Steve’s surrogate practically and he’d want her approval, he’d brought Peggy to Bucky’s birthday. It wasn’t unwelcome as much as it was unanticipated. Bucky felt a little out of his depth as he saw them holding hands, Peggy had one hand pressed to Steve’s chest as she said something that made him really laugh, not a polite thing, a full belt. Bucky knew the difference.

“Buck! Hey!” Steve lit up when he spotted his friend and Bucky shoved his hands deep into his pockets, smiling with an odd feeling in his stomach. It was one thing to wish Steve well as he imagined things from the other side of the world. It was quite another to see it playing out in his childhood home.

“Hey Stevie,” He smiled wanly and Steve enveloped him and squeezed, sighing happily. Bucky swallowed hard, spotting Peggy over his shoulder watching them before approaching.

“James, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person.” Peggy reached over and shook his hand briskly, a warm smile on her face. “I’m sorry to intrude, I feel like I’ve invited myself over.” And she did look sideways at Steve who waved her off.

“Buck doesn’t mind, right?” He said and he was damn near _glowing_. His two favourite people together in front of him. And Bucky couldn’t help it. Steve’s happiness had always been infectious and try as he might, Bucky quite liked Peggy.

“Of course not – someone’s gotta’ fill me in on all the stupid shit he’s done while I was away.” He winks at her and she lets out a little laugh and some of the tension in her shoulders and Bucky thinks, yeah he did a good thing.

Steve gets them some drinks and Bucky finds conversation with Peggy easy – she’s funny and quick and not afraid to laugh at herself of Bucky. They’re fast friends.

“Steve’s had a countdown on his phone until your birthday,” She reveals with a wicked smirk and Steve squawks before grinning sheepishly making Bucky’s heart do something distracting.

“Well it’s been months and I was excited to see you and your Mom. Oh, give you your gift!”

“I said no gifts – Peggy you’re my witness.” Bucky scowled and she laughed.

“He’s right, Steve. You’ve sold him down the river here.”

“It’s nothing big and I just stumbled across it.” He defends quickly, smiling cheekily.

“If it’s tickets to that khaki pants convention, hard pass, pal,” He snarked and Steve ignored him, fetching his gift and pressing it into Bucky’s hands.

“Just something to remind you of home,” Steve mumbles and he looks a little nervous now so Bucky opens the gift carefully.

Unwrapping it he finds a small pocket knife, beautifully made and obviously expensive, attached to the ring is a keychain with a picture of Steve and Bucky from their last get together, arms slung over each other, Steve looks thrilled and the camera caught Bucky mid-laugh. They look like family. He struggles to move the lump in his throat. Flipping the knife over he sees it’s engraved with ‘JBB’ and he grins.

“Nice, Rogers. I’ll jangle my keys to distract other snipers.” He teases but pulls his friend in for a hug, holding on for a few seconds longer because he’s really just _missed_ him. He clears his throat, pulling himself together and finds the card he’d left out earlier. “Your turn.” He says easily, handing it over and Steve looked at him quizzically.

“No gifts?”

“Suck it up, Rogers. This is your honorary birthday, too.”

Steve laughs and shrugs, opening the envelope and sliding the card out. Peggy is leant against his side all easy and comfortable and Bucky’s mouth twitches a fraction but he’s excited. Steve’s eyes widen in shock.

“Buck, are you serious? This is too much,” He gulps and Peggy takes the card from him, her eyebrows raising in surprise when she spots the tickets. Two tickets for them both to spend a few days put up in a resort in Maui. He’d saved his paychecks for over a year to afford it and it was worth every penny for the look on Steve’s face. He’d mentioned ages ago how he’d love a trip to Hawaii, a real beach holiday with blue shores, white sands, the works.

“It’s not too much – you deserve a holiday and Peggy will keep you occupied.” He shoots her a smile and she’s looking at him all soft and happy and he can’t hold her gaze much longer. “You’re not gonna’ be rude and reject the gift I spent so long thinking about are you, Rogers?” He prods and Steve looks at him, torn and wounded and pleased and annoyed.

“I… I got you a keyring.” He whines and Bucky and Peggy erupt into laughter.

“Yeah, but it’s a real nice one, what is that, is that stainless steel?” He tries through laughter and Steve shoves him before yanking him into another hug, tight and familiar. “Love you, man.” He murmurs into Steve’s shoulder and it shudders a little in response and Bucky snorts a laugh because of course Steve is crying right now.

“I love you, too, Buck.” He chokes out and Bucky decides to tap out whilst he’s ahead.

“Well, you have some time off work to book – I need to help my Ma in the kitchen.” And he scrambles away.

He leans heavy against the counter, shooting up when someone walks in but it’s just his Ma. She smiles at him in a sad question and he just can’t speak. He’s fine, he smiles, but he just can’t speak. She doesn’t push it, just crosses the kitchen and hugs him, a little hum in her throat.

The rest of the party is a success. Steve and Bucky do stupid dances to some of their favourite old songs and Bucky takes Peggy’s hand and whirls her around the room – the two of them quite the striking pair. Steve stares at them both in wonder and Bucky enjoys the attention and enjoys Peggy’s little shouts of delight when he spins and dips her extravagantly. Yes, he can dance, thank you very much. Steve cuts in after a while and Bucky mingles dutifully – one eye always trained on the couple of the hour. They are a ridiculously attractive couple.

Bucky’s Aunts hugged him and tugged at his hair because ‘really, James, you’re in the army and you’re still scruffy’. They eat cake and drink and dance well into the night and it’s a _really_ good night. Bucky feels so at peace. He’ll have to come to terms with the fact Steve doesn’t need him anymore and maybe Bucky’s always needed him more than vice versa but for now he was just basking in the moment.

By the end of the night they were all lightly buzzed, out in the garden despite the cold. They were cramped together on Bucky’s Mom’s swing chair, Steve in the middle and Peggy and Bucky on either side of him, sharing his warmth because the guy was a damn radiator. They were chatting about the future and Bucky felt sleepy and at ease and so at home he wondered how he wasn’t always homesick.

“I don’t know, we’re not that old but I feel like I’ve been in the army forever,” Steve mumbles and Bucky glances over to see his friend’s eyes are closed.

“We kind of have, Steve.” He chuckles softly and Peggy laughs too. Steve shrugs happily.

“This bit won’t last forever,” Peggy murmurs softly and it’s cryptic but makes perfect sense and Bucky hums in agreement.

“Steve still needs to run for President.” He points out and he feels Steve grinning. It’s an old conversation.

“I will if you do, Buck.” He replies and Bucky and Peggy laugh.

“Well, you’re not likely to win with that attitude, Steve.” Peggy sighs and she sounds happy and Bucky’s really glad she came along.

“That’s okay, I’ve been a loser for a long time.” He laughs but Bucky nudges him on the shoulder making a sound of annoyance. “Won the lottery with you guys though.” He says in such a Steve-like way, putting his arms over them and pulling them in, squeezing until they both were tapping out, begging for mercy.

When it was time for them all to ship out again Bucky thought he’d miss his flight because Steve wouldn’t let go. He hugged Peggy tightly, quietly telling her he’s very happy she’s in Steve’s life and now his. She looked a little teary when they pulled apart and Steve was wet around the eyes.

“God damn, we’re military professionals.” Bucky snapped but his throat was tight and he couldn’t smile, just this watery, shaky thing that made Steve’s face change into something sadder. They knew something was different this time. “Get going, we’ll see each other soon.” He offered because they couldn’t know how soon they would see each other again.

Back at his base, Bucky felt drained and used up. Something about that trip felt final and definite – Steve had moved on from him, from whatever they had been once. They weren’t a pair anymore, not in Steve’s mind. And it was confusing because Bucky was so painfully happy for him but it was just that – _painful_. He had to let go – he was a master at suppression anyway now it was time to put his skills to the test.

Clint was fairly merciless, knowing Bucky for long enough to read his moods fairly well. Also, Bucky over the years had drip-fed them his feelings about Steve through drunken revelations and stakeout confessions in the middle of the night. The problem was Clint forgot nothing. Though it was kind of a relief to hear someone tell him to get his shit together and understand what exactly it was that Bucky had to get over.

After his birthday Bucky actually let himself be set up a few times. They were fairly disastrous or just opportunities for sex as Bucky never stayed in one place for too long and wasn’t the best at opening up but was a hell of a charmer. It was nice to lose himself to someone else until he woke up feeling like shit and had to go back to a cold empty boarding house or wherever he was stationed. He had friends though, he was far better at that.

He had 18 people in his section and he considered himself friends with a grand total of three. Other than Clint. So four! Bucky was Sergeant and forgot it at times from how some of his squad would take the mick out of him but they were a good team.

Thor was a giant originally from Norway, excellent in the field and had a lot of pilot experience. He was kind and easy going and remarkably well-adjusted considering their lifestyle. Wade was a pain in the ass and wouldn’t know stealth if it bit him there but he was one of the best fighters Bucky had ever seen and apparently had been kept and interrogated for months years back and had managed to escape. He kept everyone at a slight distance but he and Bucky had something of an understanding based on mutual snarkiness and general dislike of anything too sentimental. Natasha, of course was one of his closest friends but she wasn’t technically in their section as she was transferred onto missions of international interest whenever they needed her particular skillset.

They were his friends. Natasha had pulled him back to the surface in his darkest moments. She watched bad films with him, taught him and Clint how to cook (semi-successfully), introduced him to the wonders of pinterest and generally pretended not to take care of him. Thor was a bundle of positive energy, he gushed about Jane, a physicist he was half-dating, he let Bucky teach him about pop culture as he had missed a lot of it growing up and he also had Bucky create secret handshakes with him, fresh ones every week. Because they were secret agents. And he was a child, apparently.

And Clint was his best friend. It was a big statement and it didn’t include Steve because Steve was a category of his own. Clint made him laugh so hard he choked, Clint snapped and teased and bickered with him like a brother. They were engaged in a long-term, high-stakes, brutal prank war that had almost cost them an official discipline from their superiors. He was messed up and his moral compass was as skewed as Bucky’s and there was no judgement. His sense of humour was twisted and inappropriate and he was refreshingly lively in a life of silent stealth operatives.

They were an odd little family, Bucky always preferred the missions when it was just the closest four rather than anyone else because they fell into an easy routine. Natasha and Bucky were more the sense of the operation with Thor taking pointing and Clint taking the piss but it worked. Wade seemed to come and go as he pleased. Nobody asked many questions in their line of work. Their group had the most successful mission rate for two years straight.

They were lounging at their temporary base outside of Stockholm and it was mid-summer. He and Steve had missed both birthdays this year, although it was Bucky’s fault, he’d signed on for a long-haul recon mission and they hadn’t spoken in over ten months. Guiltily, he knew he’d taken that time as a chance to heal and get his head together, he’d always been more of a runner than Steve. But now he was desperate to talk to Steve and his Ma. Today was particularly hot and they were all in vests and shorts playing Bullshit in the common space when the phone rang. The four of them sat round the table, cards in hand, stared each other down, none willing to be the one to answer it – it was a sign of weakness.

“Someone has to get it, could be Fury.” Natasha pointed out, unconcerned and Clint started to fidget.

“Two Kings,” Thor said, placing the cards down with a smirk. They left it alone. Thor wasn’t a great bluffer.

“One Queen.” Natasha flicked the card across the table without revealing it with a smile daring them to call her on it.

“Fuck sake, it’s going to ring off.” Clint grumbled, fussing with his cards. “Three –”

“Bullshit!” Bucky interrupted and Clint threw the cards across the table.

“Fuck you, Barnes!” The table erupted in laughter and Bucky, satisfied, ran to catch the phone.

He yanked it off the hook, name, rank, station, waiting professionally for the reply.

“Sergeant Barnes, I’m connecting you to a secure line with Captain Steven Rogers.” A brisk voice barked out and Bucky stiffened.

He didn’t feel ready to talk to Steve all of a sudden. Their skype call was scheduled later that week and he’d been gearing up for an almighty (and justified) hollering for being out of contact for so long. But a call coming from official channels could only mean bad news. What if he’d been injured? But then surely he wouldn’t be able to call yet? Or maybe it had happened weeks ago and Bucky didn’t know because he’d been off the radar. Horrible thoughts were racing through his mind when Steve was finally put through.

“Bucky?” His voice sounded wrecked.

“Steve, what is it? Are you hurt? What happened?” He barks out in his Sergeant voice. Steve takes an audible breath.

“It’s not me. I’m okay.” He didn’t sound okay. Bucky waited. “It’s Peggy. Buck, she’s, she’s dead.”

There was an awful silence.

“What?”

Steve shuddered in a breath and Bucky hadn’t registered what he’d said properly. Peggy died. Peggy had **died**. That’s what he just said.

“When?” Bucky asked, hushed. Steve was so quiet and Bucky’s stomach was churning as the reality started to set in. Peggy had died.

“Four days ago.” He said at last and Bucky’s eyes widened. Steve had been mourning for four days already. He had absolutely no idea what to tell his friend. How could he even begin to console him? He should have been there.

He couldn’t bring himself to ask the question. He couldn’t put Steve through that, not yet.

“Buck,” Steve’s voice broke and Bucky felt himself reform into his core elements. How to protect Steve.

“Right. I’m catching a flight in the next half an hour. I’ll be with you in under twelve hours, alright, I promise. Who are you staying with?” He says, glancing at the clock as he starts to calculate.

“Uh, I’m, I haven’t,” He gulps loudly and Bucky’s heart withers as he silently rests his head against the wall. Steve hasn’t told anyone else yet. He’s been sat in his apartment alone for four days after the woman he loved died. Bucky swallowed back the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him, that wouldn’t help Steve make it through the next twelve hours.

“Right, Stevie, I need you to go to my Ma’s, okay. She’s going to make you dinner and not ask you a single question – can you do that for me?”

“I, I don’t know. Buck, I –”

“Stevie, hey, Stevie, listen to me. Do you trust me, buddy?”

“Yeah.” He croaked and Bucky screwed his eyes up. Steve was breathing hard and Bucky heard him trying to calm down.

“Then go to my Ma’s. You can go straight upstairs, you have a key. I’ll be there as fast as I can, I will, Stevie, but you have to go straight there. For me, okay?” He said firmly. Steve made a noise of strangled assent.

“Okay. Okay.”

There was another long pause. Bucky loathed to leave Steve alone but he needed to find a plane to get on.

“I’ll be there. I’m coming, Stevie, alright?” He said quietly, willing Steve to know he _meant_ it and he wasn’t alone.

“Alright, Buck.” He mumbled, obviously fighting to keep his voice in check. Bucky hummed and quickly hung up the phone.

“I have to go.” He said as he turned and Nat was already holding a packed bag to him and the mobile that was supposed to stay in the base for emergencies.

“Taxi’s outside – I’ll book you a flight and get the details sent across to you, get going.” Clint urged from where he was tapping away on the communal laptop.

Bucky regarded them for a second, fighting a swell of feeling rising in his chest. Nat handed him the bag, pressing a kiss on his cheek and then sternly pointing to the door. He shouldered the bag, grabbed the phone, nodding in thanks and left.

Clint was impressive – Bucky wasn’t on an ordinary flight, he was on a jet within twenty minutes. Bucky wasn’t a great flier on a good day – wasn’t a huge fan of confined spaces, particularly metal containers thousands of feet in the air. And now he had no one to distract him from hours of restlessness. All he could think about was Steve sat on a different continent feeling absolutely alone and grieving.

He was _grieving_. Peggy was dead. Peggy Carter. All smart eyes and dark hair. She always spoke like she meant it, careful and intense and sincere. Light-hearted, witty with a confidence that said she wasn’t scared of you. Bucky liked her. He’d really liked her. He’d thought about what it’d be like to be at their wedding. Steve’s best man, like always, by his side, watching him be happy like he was supposed to, that’s all he wanted. Now Steve was experiencing something Bucky had hoped he would never have to feel, at least nothing like this, nothing so soon. He’d lost a love. He’d be forever wrecked by this. Steve loved harder than anyone Bucky had ever met.

Bucky’s shoulders shuddered and he realised his eyes had welled up. He was angry. He was so fucking devastated he could feel it hollowing out his chest. His friend was dead. And his best friend, the kid Bucky was supposed to protect just lost everything. And now he had to deal with the world that had fallen apart. A world without the woman he loved. This was the start of a hell of a lot of pain. Bucky scrubbed at his eyes furiously, breathing deep and slow. He needed to have his head on straight because Steve would need him at his best.

The flight seemed to take years because he clock-watched the entire time. He was used to passing long periods of time in silence and was ordinarily very good at staying still and calm for hours on end but he was a nervous wreck by the time he landed.

It was a blur, landing, grabbing a taxi, taking the drive to his Mother’s house, throwing money at the taxi driver and staggering to his old front door. It opened before he had made it down the path and he all but fell into his Mother’s arms. She looked tired and scared but she was a protector like Bucky, her arms were almost enough to make Bucky lose his nerve so he pulled away quicker than he would have liked.

“He’s upstairs.” She said simply, understanding. He nodded and took the stairs two at a time, mechanically. He had a job to do. He could feel later.

The door to the room they always kept for Steve was open but the room was empty. He carried on down the corridor and saw his own room’s door closed. He knocked tentatively.

“Come in.” Steve’s choked up, raw voice replied, polite even now. He pushed open the door and saw his friend sat on the floor, leaning back against the bed. Bucky’s heart clenched painfully at the sight of Steve, seeing him for the first time in almost a year and it all caught up to him at a hurtling pace.

His giant frame was curled in on itself, shoulders hunched and shaking. His arms were curled around his legs and his eyes, god his eyes were so ruined. His face was blotchy, big dark circles under his eyes which were red, bloodshot and stained with tears. His knuckles were cut up something messy and they looked scabbed and dark like he hadn’t bothered cleaning them.

Bucky moved carefully, easing himself down next to his friend. He didn’t say anything at first. Then Steve let out a huge shuddering sob and Bucky’s arms moved of their own well-versed volition, pulling him down and against his chest. His own eyes filled up as Steve sobbed against him, loud and broken cries, impossible to stifle. He bit down on his lip as his own tears spilt over, gripping Steve tightly, one hand on his back and the other stroking the back of his neck.

“I’m so sorry, Stevie, I’m so sorry.” Steve sobbed harder, wheezing in air harsh and too fast like when he was a kid. “I’ve got you, Stevie, breathe, just breathe, alright, I’ve got you, breathe for me.” He shushed and held his friend.

They stayed that way for a long time, a long time. Steve eventually calmed but was limp and boneless and unresponsive. Bucky coerced his body into moving and managed to get Steve so he was laying down on the bed, glazed eyes staring at the ceiling. Bucky lay next to him. They didn’t talk for a while, Bucky could feel Steve all but brimming over with emotion but he was trying so hard to contain it.

“They’re gonna’ bury her.” Steve mumbled, a small whimper morphing into a sob, soft and quiet, tears streaming down the sides of his face and drowning the pillowcase. Bucky just nodded because what the hell was he supposed to say to that? “I’m gonna’ have to visit two graveyards now.” And he barely made it through that sentence before Bucky caved, sliding an arm under Steve’s neck and pulling him in, letting him cry against him again, hands soothing and running through his hair, trying to push down the swelling anger at the universe for letting this happen to his best friend.

“You can do this.” He murmured and Steve shook his head slowly along the line of Bucky’s collarbone. “Yes, you can. And you’re not alone.” He said emphatically, he’d keep saying it because at times like this it was more than easy to not really hear those words for the offer they were. Steve was quiet again, sniffling a little and Bucky traced his thumb over Steve’s ear absently.

“It was a car crash.”

Bucky closed his eyes.

“Can you believe that?” Steve’s voice had a spark of anger and Bucky hummed. He understood _that_. “Got a call from the hospital and she was gone by the time I got there.”

“Jesus,” Bucky whispered. The idea of Peggy’s definitive presence just fading away was alien and unfair.

“I, I had to call her parents.” Steve grit out and Bucky squeezed him tighter because that must have been the most terrible conversation. Steve was so fucking brave. “It was awful.” He managed.

“I’m sorry, Stevie.” He murmured again. The sun was going down and Bucky vaguely wondered what time it was, running his hand down Steve’s shoulder over and over. He wouldn’t leave this spot.

“Her Dad was just starting to like me,” Steve sniffled a laugh and it crumpled into a messy gasp and he cursed under his breath, more tears. “God, there’s so much you don’t know, Buck. Big stuff.” He choked out and Bucky’s heart twisted uncomfortably.

“I know, Stevie. And I’ll catch up but not yet. I’m here and I’m with you and whatever you need you just leave it to me. Whatever you need, I’m here.” He thoughtlessly presses his lips into Steve’s hair quickly and Steve shudders with more sobs but nods.

He’s silent now and Bucky risks shifting to look at his friend after a while to find Steve asleep in his arms. He breathes in relief, knowing full well Steve won’t have been getting much or any sleep alone. Like this Bucky could see how puffy and swollen Steve’s eyes were, his lips that were chewed to pieces, the unhappy curve to his brow, even in his sleep – though that was nothing new. Sleeping was probably an indulgent term for what was happening, a more accurate description was the complete usage of finite natural resources leading to a full system shutdown. Bucky knew what grief was like, you didn’t sleep, you just _ran out_.

He was glad Steve was sleeping though. For a little while he could be absent from the pain. He wondered where Steve had been when he got the phonecall. He wondered what he’d been doing as Steve discovered his dead girlfriend. Then he squeezed his eyes shut too. This was going to be rock bottom for Steve for a while. Bucky would just have to be as good of a crutch as he could.

The funeral was two days later. The Barnes clan all came with Steve in the seat of honour at the front of the car. It was a silent car journey. Bucky and Steve were in full dress uniform and he would ordinarily complain about it being itchy but not today – Peggy deserved the highest level of respect.

He helped Steve carry the coffin. The whole ceremony was respectful and beautiful and awful. Bucky felt like he might vomit at any moment so he couldn’t imagine how Steve was feeling. When she was lowered into the ground her Mother’s cries echoed in the scorching graveyard. Bucky could feel the faint shudder in his bones, he wanted to cry too.

“She’d have wanted it colder.” Steve said, voice hollow and Bucky looked up at him in surprise. It was the first he’d spoken all day. “Like home.” He explained and Bucky gave him a sad smile and a nod.

After that things got more difficult. Bucky never understood the reception part to a funeral. A group of people either too traumatised to talk or eat the microwaved cocktail sausages or awkwardly hanging around because they felt obliged to stay but not close enough to talk to the bereaved. Bucky stepped outside about the time that Steve, Peggy’s parents and Bucky’s Mother in lieu of Steve’s got teary and reminiscent. He felt like an intruder. Peggy hadn’t been his, he didn’t want to spoil their healing.

Eventually, Steve came outside, finding him sat on the step outside the Church and he instantly got to his feet.

“Hey, Stevie.” He greeted softly. Steve was more collected now, hands in his pockets. He looked so beautiful and so _sad_.

“I’m going to dinner with Peggy’s parents, we have… there’s so much we have to talk about, to decide,” He mumbled and Bucky nodded, getting the message loud and clear.

“Of course, Stevie.” He says and he can’t stop himself now, he surges forward and envelops his friend in a huge tight hug. It actually prompts a little surprised laugh from Steve – tiny and not right but just that was enough to make Bucky’s heart soar.

He knew Steve well enough to know he was shifting his focus onto taking care of Peggy’s parents right now. It was a coping mechanism as much as anything – forcing himself to pull it together so he could be of some use. Bucky would recognise it a mile off. Who do you think he learnt it from?

“Love you, buddy.”

“Love you, too, Buck.” Steve says and he sighs deeply, holding the embrace for another few moments before pulling away. Bucky lets him disentangle them.

It turns out he goes back home alone as his Mother decides to act as Steve’s parental unit with Peggy’s parents. He gets a text late in the night from Steve.

_Things are going to be complicated here for a while. Try not to worry too much. I’ll let you know when things have eased up and we’ll sort out where to go from there. Thanks for everything – Steve x_

Bucky reads it a few times before his heart sinks and he hears it for what it is. It’s a goodbye. It’s a ‘please leave me to pull myself back together alone’. It hurts. It hurts a lot. But Bucky won’t force himself on Steve – not now, not ever. It’s always been Steve’s one luxury – Bucky’s his to call and dismiss. He deserved that level of devotion whether he wanted it from Bucky or not. So, asked to leave, Bucky would do just that, trying not to wonder how long it would be before Steve wanted to see him again.

\---------

Steve sighed as he reread the text and winced. It was too cold and Bucky would probably take it hard but he couldn’t have him here yet. He was on his own for this bit. He was too numb to think about it too hard now anyway.

He left his phone on the kitchen counter and walked across his apartment before, as quietly as possible, slipping into the dimly lit room. His tired eyes were glued to the month old baby sleeping soundly in the crib that still smelt like Ikea.

“Buck’s gonna’ kill me.” He murmurs as he reaches over and runs his thumb over the child’s pink cheeks. “It’s just you and me, kid.”


	2. always with the waterworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> steve overestimates his ability to lay low // he's really tired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want to get going in this story fairly quickly so the whole weekly update thing is not happening i will be sporadic as hell  
> can't wait to write everything i have planned for this fic  
> as always please leave comments they are wonderful & thank you for all the kudos!  
> hope you enjoy

He fell asleep with a blanket and cushion from the sofa next to the crib again that night – it’s been almost a week without Peggy and just the few days he’d left the baby with a Nanny that Pepper had assured him was incredible, he’d never felt more alone. He’s been sleeping on the couch or the floor in the baby’s room ever since because he can’t stand being alone in that bed. He wakes up in the very early hours to a painful quiet, staring up at the ceiling of the nursey he’d painted with Peggy – birds and clouds and a huge rainbow with a pot of gold at the end. He could just lie here, he thinks. He could lie here for a long time and no one will come in and ask him if he wants coffee or a walk or a shower.

Everything reminds him of Peggy. He tiptoes around their apartment because it feels like it’s a cemetery now. He creeps around like a visitor in a Pompeii museum, not daring to touch anything or disturb anything lest he ruin the crystallised memory of books half-finished, clothes folded but not yet put away, lipsticks and bobby pins scattered on the bed side table and bathroom sink. He keeps to the nursery and kitchen, which is difficult but less painful.

He’s making up some formula when there’s a light knock on the door. Despite it being gentle it still makes Steve jolt. He fumbles with the cap to the bottle before leaving it and going for the door – light is just barely creeping in through the window. He swings it open and it’s Sam, smiling softly at him. Steve’s brain whites out and he falls forward against him, hearing his friend’s light ‘ooft’ of surprise. Sam hugs him for several minutes in the doorway before easing him up so he can come in.

They go to sit at the little kitchen table because Steve can’t face the living room. The name of it sounds ironic now and he wants to punch himself for that. He busies himself again with the formula and then begins to make Sam a coffee, all the while not speaking. It’s easier to just concentrate on moving, having a task and completing it so he doesn’t think too hard. He brings two coffees over and places them gently on the table, finally sitting down with a heavy sigh.

“Thanks.” Sam says, breaking the silence at last and Steve nods in favour of speaking.

They sit quietly for a little while and Steve’s grateful.

“You resigned.” Sam says matter-of-fact and Steve nods. He had to. Sam doesn’t dispute it, there’s no judgement in his eyes. “You thought about your plan?” He asks and Steve just looks at him. The longer he’s quiet the sadder Sam looks.

“My plan?” He says at last and Sam nods, encouraged just by hearing him speak.

“Where you want to be? How you’re going to do this?” Sam is being very gentle, it’s his VA counsellor voice and if Steve had more energy and less grief he might bristle up. But he doesn’t.

He thinks about Sam’s words for a minute. Where he wants to be? And it hits him very hard and very sudden, so much so he nearly chokes.

“I can’t stay here.” He croaks, eyes dropping to the coffee he’s gripping, it’s swimming around the table as his eyes fill up. In his periphery Sam nods. “It’s like a fucking tomb in here.” He whispers, surprising himself, a small sob wracks through him and Sam’s hand is covering his wrist gently.

“We’re gonna’ find you a place, a good place for both of you and you have Peggy’s… you’ll be alright for money, we’ve made sure of it, alright?” Sam says seriously and quickly, like he’s been dying to say that since he walked in the door.

“We?” Steve mumbles, sniffing and glancing up. Sam smiles at him like he’s an idiot. He’s missed that smile.

“Yes we, dumbass.” Sam laughs lightly, kindly. “Me, Bruce, Tony and Pepper, Rhodey, hell, I’m sure Fury’d babysit if you asked nice enough,” He says and Steve laughs a little and it’s a relief. It’s a relief to know he’s still capable of doing it, even if his heart rattles around a little when he does, reminding him of what’s been taken away.

“We’re with you, man.” Sam assures with a smile and Steve blessedly feels a little lighter.

“Thanks, Sam.” He manages, swiping messily at his face to try and clear it.

“Of course. We’ll get you set up with a good place in a good area and go from there, okay?”

Steve nods once, breathing in deeply through his nose, calming down. He might have fallen backwards, splayed out, tangled in every bad thing he’d never considered or prepared for, but his friends were holding him up and they’d pick him apart from the mesh piece by piece. He wasn’t alone.

\--------

One of the perks of having friends who all have a military background is that in a crisis, things are completed with military like efficiency. Whilst Steve is trying not to drown in grief, his friends are a well-oiled machine. They find options for potential places to live, eventually getting Steve to visit and agree to a little place in a nice neighbourhood, it was smaller but clean, light and safe.

It became clear that Steve couldn’t keep most of the things he’d shared with Peggy. So, they contacted her parents, finding out what they wanted, what should be put into storage and what could be donated to charity. Steve had one box labelled Peggy that he’d packed himself and hidden away in the pile they were taking to the new place, not touching it again.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, Steve and Peggy hadn’t actually bought that much baby stuff as they’d been planning to move somewhere bigger to make space for the three of them and they had decided against knowing the sex of the baby so they’d only bought basics, waiting to personalise things later. In hindsight, Steve thought really it was because they’d both been scared shitless and hadn’t been quite ready for such a huge change. They were delighted to be having a child but it wasn’t planned and neither was convinced they themselves would make a good parent. But they’d had such faith in each other it was happening.

However, it meant when they left the apartment, Steve needed pretty much everything you could need to take care of a new baby. Tony lept into action, finally feeling he could be of use in this instance. Within a few hours being at the new place, a huge delivery of supplies arrived. A new crib, changing table, a bouncer, clothes, babygrows, diapers, bottles, jars of baby food, formula, rusks, cups, dishes, plastic cutlery, a mobile, baby-proofing corner guards, locks on cupboard doors, first aid kits, bibs, millions of baby wipes. It was overwhelming.

Steve had told him not to get any toys for fear of an entire Toys R’ Us inventory arriving at his door. Tony still sent a few, but for him it was very modest. He also sent a small but highly recommended pile of parenting books with key information on sleeping patterns, eating and development which Steve intended to devour.

When they’d finally got all of the _things_ Steve could possibly need, the new apartment felt full and it was easier to breathe knowing everything wouldn’t have a shattering reminder of Peggy attached to it. He tried not to think too hard about the fact that their baby wouldn’t ever know its Mother. It was a survival game now. He just tried to make it hour to hour, he had a chart on the wall which kept track of naps, feeding, changing and outside time. The outside time was just as much for him as the baby.

He had two minor breakdowns in the new place in the first month they were there. The first was when he called Peggy to ask what time it was and the returning silence had _crippled_ him. The second was when the baby had screamed all night despite anything Steve did and he couldn’t stop the thought of ‘bad Father’ echoing around his head. He was trying his best to accept help but after the initial life overhaul, he didn’t like asking his friends for anything else and they pretty much had to turn up and refuse to leave to see him.

After a few weeks things didn’t so much get better as much as Steve was getting into a routine. He went to a meeting once a week with other single parents which he hated. He went to the park and a play centre and the VA every week. He checked them off mentally as his social interactions and knew he was playing at being alright but hey, fake it until you make it.

It was a Saturday morning about a month and a half after they’d moved in and Steve was exhausted. He’d been reading a lot about what he could have around his child, sounds, music, colours. There was a lot to digest. A knock at the door brought him out of it and he slung the book aside, sighing as he heaved himself to his feet. He glanced at the clock next to the baby monitor, he had another 10 minutes before the nap was due to end. It was probably Sam checking he knew about Tony’s birthday party next week. He’d been tactfully ignoring the millions of messages Tony had been sending on the group chat.

He kicks something that squeaks away from the door, unlocks it, pulls the chain across and swings it open. And it’s Bucky.

His jaw drops open a little and his brain short circuits because _oh no_. Steve’s in his pyjamas with a stain on his t shirt from the fiasco with the mixed vegetable paste he’d tried to trick his child into eating earlier. It hadn’t gone down well. His hair desperately needed cutting, he hadn’t shaved in a few days and he definitely had at least one sticker somewhere on his person.

And there’s Bucky. Clean cut, stood up straight, little smile, a bag slung easily over his shoulder.

“Surprise!” He announced and Steve gulped through a laugh, sounding vaguely like a goldfish. Bucky’s smile dimmed a little at it. “Sorry, didn’t want to jump you just got some leave and got your new address from my Ma and, well, guess I thought I’d just,” He gestured to Steve and his smile looked nervous now and Steve knew he was reacting very poorly but he was in shock.

What exactly is the best etiquette for seeing your life long best friend who you haven’t spoken to since you sent him away after your girlfriend died who also coincidentally isn’t aware of the existence of your child who’s currently blessedly quiet but will very likely start screaming at any moment because really that is Steve’s luck. He just blinks at his friend.

“Can I come in?” Bucky asks and Steve stammers a little before nodding and stepping aside. Steve quickly guides them into the kitchen, the least offensive room in the apartment for colour, mess and general child paraphernalia.

It doesn’t mean Steve doesn’t have to subtley scramble to hide the various coloured plastic bowls and spoons under plates in the sink. And bibs with various slogans and images on, stuffing them with a few bottles in a cupboard as he pretends to search for a mug for his friend.

“This is a nice place,” Bucky comments politely and Steve hums. “You, uh, didn’t tell me you moved?” He turns and fixes Steve with a curious look and Steve’s stomach drops. Bucky’s hurt just from _this_. He’s in trouble, here.

“Uh, yeah, I’m really sorry about that, I just, it’s been a really rough month and I couldn’t… I just couldn’t –”

“Of course, yeah.” Bucky thankfully cuts him off and he smiles gratefully. “I’m sorry I didn’t visit earlier, wasn’t sure if,” He kind of shrugs and tips his head and Steve nods.

“Yeah, it’s alright. You wouldn’t have wanted to be here, trust me.” He tries but this was apparently the wrong thing to say because Bucky tenses and his eyes darken.

“Don’t say that.” Bucky says under his breath. Steve’s eyes drift and widen in alarm to the chart on the wall over Bucky’s shoulder that he hasn’t noticed. “Steve, I, I know you’ve had the worst go of it and, I just wanna’ help.”

“Thank you, Buck but I’m doing okay, the space is doing me good, uh,” He swallows noisily, eyes on the floor.

“You’re a shitty liar, Steve.” Bucky warns and Steve’s eyes snap up. There must be panic in them from the way Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Did something happen? Something else, I mean. You know you can talk to me.”

“I, yeah, Buck, I know that.” He mumbles and Bucky’s eyes narrow and he’s too sharp for his own good. He knows something else is going on. Most people treat him like fine china after Peggy died but Bucky’s different.

“So what then?” He pushed and Steve grit his teeth. He couldn’t handle this right now. There was no way humanly possible he could do this. They’d had a plan.

“Now’s not a good time,” He tries and Bucky makes a noise of disapproval.

“When will be a good time?” He asks doubtfully and Steve knows he’s right but he _can’t handle this_ right now. They’d had a **plan**.

“I don’t know, Buck.” And he glances up with all his exhaustion and grief and spite and fear. “When’s your next visit? Christmas?”

Bucky blanches and then his face darkens and he clears his throat, scowl on his face. Steve waits for the hit back but it doesn’t come. Bucky visibly calms himself down. He sighs and rubs a hand over his face, he looks tired too. Steve’s missed him so desperately. He has tried not to think about it but he’s imagined Bucky meeting his baby, how they’d interact, how he’d tell Steve they are so alike and he’s so proud. And here is Bucky letting Steve lash out and taking it and not rising to it. Like a parent. He’s already better at this than Steve. But he supposes Bucky’s always been kind of a Dad, trailing around after Steve as kids, keeping him out of trouble or getting him out of the trouble he’d found on his own.

“I deserve that. I should be here more.” He admits, hands up in defeat and Steve feels like a jerk.

“No, Buck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like,” He swallows the sentence because there’s no point. Bucky waves him off anyway.

“I dropped in unannounced, bit of an ambush, I’ll uh, get out of your hair and, yeah, we’ll catch up whenever you like.” He says all compromise and taking it on the chin and Steve wants to beat himself to death with a rolling pin. A lot of his thoughts aren’t as child-friendly as they should be.

Bucky waves with an aborted smile and turns to leave and Steve flails a little because it would be easy. _‘Hey Buck, wanna meet my kid?’_ But he can’t. This isn’t it. They had a plan.

“Buck,” He blurts and his friend turns. “How long you here?” He offers the olive branch, smiling apologetically and Bucky returns it, wider and more relieved than he should have to be because Steve’s the one messing things up.

“Two weeks.” He promises, Steve nods and he returns it, smile lingering around the corners of his mouth. After that he leaves.

Steve’s left in the kitchen long after his door has closed and footsteps have faded. Perfectly on cue, the baby monitor starts making noise and Steve huffs a delirious laugh because of course. He starts fumbling around to find the bottle in the fridge, staring at it for a long moment before groaning and smacking it against his head. Idiot! He should have told him. But he couldn’t – they’d had a plan.

He walks across the apartment to the nursery which is down the hall from his bedroom. He and Peggy had discussed who they’d tell when she found out she was pregnant. They agreed to tell her parents and the equivalent for Steve was Bucky’s Mother and, well, Bucky. That was his family. But then they’d told Peggy’s parents and showed them the scan picture and they’d been so delighted and overwhelmed and it was such a _precious_ moment.

So, he’d decided to wait and tell Bucky when he came back home. He hadn’t counted on it being so long and before they knew it, they had a little baby in their laps. They’d both been so excited to meet Bucky at the airport with their tiny child and see the look on his face. They’d had a plan and everything had gone wrong. And Steve didn’t have a plan. Everyone kept talking about things like there was one but there wasn’t. Steve was just trying to keep his baby alive.

\-----------

“You didn’t _tell_ him?” Sam said incredulously and Steve whined.

“I froze, just couldn’t get the words out. Never think straight when Buck’s around, was just enough seeing him let alone,” He gestures to the general situation. They were doing recon – aka – scoping out different brands of organic baby food and trying to decide where the line was between saving money and being a good Father who provided good quality food for his child. The baby was with Tony and Pepper, more Pepper than Tony, Steve was assured.

“You gotta’ tell him.” Sam says obviously and Steve rolls his eyes but he’s nervous. “You just have to. You can’t hide that you have a kid.”

“I don’t _want_ to hide it. I just don’t want him to think, I don’t know, that I lied.” He admits despairingly and Sam heaves a long-suffering sigh.

“You were grieving with a baby, Steve, you lied, you did what you had to do to survive. Just pull yourself together and rip the bandaid off. It’ll only get worse the longer you leave it.”

Steve points to an own-brand organic section of jarred baby food that he liked and Sam obediently got three of each type and put them all into the basket he was dutifully filling.

“I’ll tell him tomorrow. Him and his Ma.” Steve decides aloud and Sam ‘hurrah’s’ and Steve’s stomach flips nervously. Tomorrow he tells Bucky he has a baby.

\-----------

Later after Sam’s left and Steve’s finally managed to put the baby down to sleep, only because of the sheer amount of food Steve managed to get them to eat. It’s past eleven and his eyes are drifting as whatever he’s watching is sending him off to sleep. It’s some documentary, maybe about sealife or global warming, it has a lot of calming blue. There’s a rapid fire knocking on the door that has Steve naturally up and on his feet, still dazed as he pads over and pulls it open.

Bucky barrels in, talking before Steve’s eyes have even fully opened.

“I’m really sorry to do this, I know it’s a bad time but I think it’ll be a bad time for a while, not, not like your life is going to keep being shit, I didn’t, fuck,” He’s babbling, pacing the living room where the bouncer, various toys, a blanket and bottles are everywhere.

“Bucky,” Steve’s trying to catch up, he is paralysed in fear. Why is Bucky here? Steve had a fucking plan. **Tomorrow.**

“I should have been around more, I didn’t call because of shit I was dealing with and it meant you were just left on your own when everything went down and that’s on me, that’s my fault,” He continues and Steve’s eyes are flying to the framed scan on the bookshelf. Another frame with Peggy cradling the baby in the hospital.

“Listen, Buck, I’ve gotta –”

“No, Steve, you’re my best friend so I gotta’ be straight with you,” Bucky’s words make something twist in Steve’s chest and he steels himself.

“Bucky –”

“I should have just been up front with you but you know what I’m like, fucking coward through and through, if I was even a little bit as brave as you I would have –”

“I have a son,” Steve blurts out. Bucky trips a little in stopping so quickly and stares at him, eyes clearly waiting, his whole face a buffering icon and Steve takes advantage of the brief lull. “I have a kid, we, we had a baby and now it’s just me and it’s mine, it’s my baby, Buck, I have a baby.” He shudders in a breath and gulps, hard.

“What are you talking about?” Bucky manages and he looks doubtful, he’s looking at Steve with concern like he’s thinks he’s gone mad. Maybe invented the idea of a child to help cope with his girlfriend’s death. It’s not a completely ludicrous theory but it doesn’t help what Steve’s trying to say.

“I’ve got a baby boy, I’m, I’m a Dad, Buck.”

“No, Steve, you didn’t, you didn’t _have a baby,_ I would know if you, if you had a baby,” Bucky says firmly and he sounds as though he’s trying to convince himself but he’s looking around and spotting the general baby mess around his feet. A play pen in the corner with a bright, soft train and a teddy and colourful plastic cups that fit inside each other. “Are you… what?” Bucky’s eyes are wide and a little horrified as he looks back up at Steve and he is fully panicking now.

“I know this is a shock, I know this is huge,”

“You didn’t tell me you had a **_baby_**?” Bucky looks worse now, he looks betrayed and Steve is breathing hard trying not to get emotional.

“I’m so, so sorry, Buck. We were going to tell you when we saw you and then, then after Peggy, I just couldn’t.” He bites his lip, eyes full and worried. God knows if the tables were turned he’d be a mess thinking that his best friend didn’t tell him something so monumental.

“So, wait, so after the funeral, you, you had a baby and you let me _leave_ ,” He breathed and Steve turned away, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“You would’ve left anyway.” He mutters darkly because it’s easier to do this, easier to hit out than to feel the weight of everything else.

“No I fucking wouldn’t have!” Bucky shouts and Steve turns back to him and he looks devastated. They stare at each other, impossible emotions high and the stakes are too much to handle.

“I can do this on my own,” Steve mumbles defensively and Bucky is looking at him like he just cannot understand.

“What? Steve,”

“I _have_ to do this on my own!” He shouts and Bucky frowns at him, the way he would when they were kids and Steve was trying to hide how bad the cut was.

“Steve, no,” Bucky says and it’s an offer of help but Steve deliberately lets himself see it as doubt because he doubts himself so much and so often.

“No, fuck you! Fuck you, Bucky! You don’t get to come in here and, and, this isn’t your life! You waltz in and out whenever you like but this is my life and I don’t need you or your fucking help,” He growls and Bucky looks like he’s got whiplash. His expression morphs from shock to disbelief to anger.

“You don’t need me. Okay.” He spits out dangerously, eyes furious and pushes past him to the door. Steve’s anger instantly dampens when he realises what he’s doing.

He’s so scared that he’s fucking things up as a Dad he won’t let anyone else close enough to tell him so. It’s easier to keep everyone at arm’s length, do the job, struggle the best he can and not let anyone see what a failure he is. Bucky’s out of the door, not bothering to close it and Steve quickly follows him as he storms away to the stairwell.

“We named him after you,” He calls and Bucky freezes, turns a little to look back at Steve, his eyes are wide in disbelief. “James Harrison Rogers.”

Bucky’s head ducks down and one of his hands comes up quickly to cover his face for a second before raking through his hair. He turns and walks back over to Steve, face blotchy, eyes red and Steve’s never seen this look on his face.

“James after you, Harrison after Peg’s Dad. We were, we were gonna’ tell you together.” His voice breaks and Bucky’s face screws up as some tears escape from Steve. He steps forward and yanks Steve into a tight hug, burying his face into his friend’s shoulder and Steve can feel him crying. Bucky doesn’t cry much – Steve’s a damn fountain, ‘ _always with the waterworks’_ Bucky’s Ma used to say. But not Bucky.

“For a second there,” Bucky managed, his voice heavy with emotion. “Thought you were stupid enough to call the poor kid a dumb name like Bucky.” He says into Steve’s shoulder and Steve laughs, light at first but then harder and Bucky joins in. The pair cling to each other, laughing and crying for things they’ve lost and new things.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you.” He murmurs and Bucky shakes his head, reluctantly pulling back, both laughing at the state of the other.

“You’ve been to hell and back, Stevie, got nothing to apologise for. Sorry I reacted like a dick, just a shock to the system.” He confesses and Steve laughs. Nodding. “James, huh?” Bucky says, at last, looking incredibly pleased.

“That’s right. He goes by Jimmy or Jim, too.” He says and Bucky _beams_.

“Can I meet him?” He asks eagerly and Steve’s heart soars.

“Well, he’s sleeping at the minute,”

“Right, shit, course he is,” Bucky scoffs at himself, spirits a little lower and Steve can’t have that.

“Long as we’re quiet, not a problem to go in and see him,” He offers and Bucky smiles a little again.

“You sure? I can wait until tomorrow if –”

“No you can’t.” Steve scoffs now and Bucky shoves him but follows anxiously as they go back into Steve’s apartment.

They tread carefully as they reach James’ room and Steve gently turns the doorknob and eases the door open slowly so it doesn’t creak. He hears Bucky’s soft intake of breath at the first sight of his son and it does something to Steve’s heart. They pad across to stand over the crib and James is sleeping soundly, his little hands in fists on either side of his head, breathing softly. He got Peggy’s dark hair, to Bucky’s surprise, but that mouth is Steve’s and so is the rest of him if the fists are anything to go by.

“He’s perfect, Stevie.” Bucky whispers reverently.

Steve glances over at him, catching the look of awe on his friend’s face and a swell of emotion rises in his chest. And for the first time in a long time, it isn’t pain. It feels sweet and calm and wonderful. He isn’t alone. His best friend was here and with his son and his apartment felt like home for the first time.

It wasn’t that he didn’t have happy moments – he’d never felt the kind of happy that he felt when James was asleep against his chest or made little blinking, gurgling noises when Steve made stupid faces at him. But everything was tinged with the sinking feeling that he had no one to share this with, no support, no advice, no breaks. He constantly felt guilty about wanting a minute to himself but was also terrified to accept help or leave James with someone else for too long.

He felt like he’d released a breath he’d been holding for two months. After a while they sank down on the opposite wall side by side. They listened to James’ soft sleepy breaths. He snuffled and made a little hum in his sleep and Bucky bit down on his fist.

“Oh my God,” He murmured and Steve muffled a laugh. Bucky stared at him for a second before nudging him. “How you holding up?”

Steve instantly smiled with a shrug and opened his mouth to speak but Bucky shook his head frowning a little.

“Come on. Really.” He pushed and Steve deflated. He gulped, eyes on the ceiling before letting them fall back on Bucky. Bucky looked like he already knew.

“I’m real tired.” He said, letting his head fall into his hands so Bucky wouldn’t see his face. He felt a hand heavily on his arm, rubbing soothing circles into his shoulder.

They stayed like that for a long time, Steve dropped in and out of sleep, waking up and seeing Bucky asleep next to him at one point, his mouth a little open as his head was back against the wall. He smiled, serene and calm in the warm glow of the nightlight.

“My two best guys.” He muttered, huffing happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ey, hope you liked that  
> there's some cute shit scheduled down the line dw  
> please let me know what you thought it helps so much!  
> thanks for reading  
> b x


	3. gotta' go digital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> steve & bucky get an invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoy this, these cuties are going to take their sweet time  
> psa // if you have any prompts for me i'm on a bit of a roll recently so drop me a message and i'll consider writing a thing for you  
> enjoy, let me know what you think & thanks for all the comments so far x

Bucky blinked his eyes open and froze when he saw two big blue eyes staring at him.

It took him a few moments to remember where he was. Steve’s head was lolling to one side and Bucky nearly woke him up but really looking at his friend he saw how exhausted Steve looked. He was pale, his hair looked like it needed a wash and he had dark bags under his eyes that appeared to be a permanent feature.

James started squirming and squawking in his crib and Bucky got to his feet, unsure what to do.

“Hey, pal, you alright? I’m a friend of your Dad’s.” He whispered but James’ lip started quivering and his little noises got louder. “Hey, woah, it’s okay, he’s just sleeping, I swear.” Bucky tried to placate him but the baby wasn’t having it. When James screwed up his face and sucked in a breath Bucky panicked and stooped down, as gently as he could, scooping James up into his arms.

Suddenly a baby was eye level. Bucky held his gaze, willing him not to cry.

“Makes sense you’re a morning person,” He ventures quietly with a little, hesitant smile, shifting James’ weight more comfortably against him. “Bet soon you’ll be jogging with your Dad and making pancakes before seven like a lunatic.”

He bounced James a little and he gurgled a laugh. Delighted, Bucky tried it again, laughing with the baby this time. He just took a moment to really look at the little boy. He was adorable, his cheeks were a little too rosy in the way only tiny babies had, he was blinking himself awake, blue eyes roaming before snapping back to Bucky every two seconds. He was transfixed, completely enchanted, gently rubbing a hand down his tiny back, his small frame so warm and soft. Poor Peggy. He sent her a kiss, gently pressing another one to James’ cheek.

“Ah, I forgive you. Look at that smile, you’re gonna’ get me into trouble, little guy.” He laughed happily. “So, James, it’s Jimmy, right?”

James flopped his head against Bucky’s chest, blinking up at him happily, a little chubby hand coming up to thump at his shoulder. Bucky brought his hand up and laughed, shocked when James closed his hand around Bucky’s little finger.

“That’s a good shake, Jimmy. It’s good to meet you too.” He murmured softly, feeling strangely warm and odd, holding Steve’s son wasn’t something he’d ever pictured before but here he was. James’ eyes drifted shut as he relaxed in Bucky’s arms and he felt a surge of protectiveness. Made sense Steve was so tired, Bucky already knew that he’d hate to take his eyes off of this kid for more than a second.

“I see you two have met,” Steve piped up, voice dull from sleep. Bucky turned, raising an eyebrow but couldn’t manage his usual level of sardonic with the kid snuggled up against him, his heart wasn’t in it. He downright beamed at Steve who was staring at him like he just invented birthday cake. He climbed to his feet, ducking to gently kiss James cheek, smiling when he babbled sleepily.

“This is some of your best work.” Bucky chuckled and Steve rubbed the back of his neck, smiling but he just looked so tired. “How do you take your eyes off him?” He chuckled lightly.

“I don’t!” He blurted out and his eyes were wide and frantic. “I mean, I, I, there’s a lot of,”

“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it.” He assured, fast but Steve’s face didn’t shift. They were quiet for a long minute, even little Jimmy was watching his Dad quietly like he didn’t want to upset him.

“Should probably actually get him some breakfast.” He said at last.

“Oh, of course!” Bucky instantly held Jimmy at arm’s length guiltily like he’d done something wrong, jostling him and prompting him to start crying at the shift in warmth.

“Buck, it’s alright, I didn’t mean you couldn’t hold him,” Steve replied but Bucky was panicking about the noises the baby was making.

“You, he needs you, quick, quick, he’s sad!” Steve takes mercy on him, collecting his son and shushing him gently with bounces.

“Would you look at that, he didn’t explode,” Steve said sarcastically, coming back to himself and Bucky rolled his eyes but looked relieved the baby had calmed down and Steve too, to some extent. “I need to make up some formula for him, it’s in the kitchen, come on.”

Steve put James in his bouncer, making sure he had a good view of him before moving around the kitchen to get his breakfast ready. Bucky was hyperaware he was just standing back and watching Steve go into autopilot, hands moving without the help of his eyes. He took special care with the formula, testing it on his wrist out of habit before going to get James. He sat at the kitchen table, baby in arms as he fed him, trying to get used to having meals in the kitchen and not the whole apartment.

Bucky was still quiet but Jimmy was filling the silence with loud squawks and happy babbling.

“Come on, buddy, you gotta’ eat,” Steve murmured distractedly but his son seemed more interested in the man standing awkwardly in the corner. “Showing off to your Uncle Buck, huh?” Steve ventured and Bucky’s throat tightened.

“Like Father like Son,” Bucky piped up and Steve blessedly let out a little laugh.

There was more quiet when James finally settled and was happily sucking on the bottle. Steve had him tucked into the crook of his arm, hand holding the bottle whilst his other hand was jotting down notes onto a pad on the table, it looked like a to-do list. Bucky was just staring, trying to understand the overlap between his dorky carefree headstrong best friend and this new quiet, solemn, task-driven, grief-filled parent.

“Kinda’ freaking me out, Buck.” He laughed stiltedly, suddenly looking at him and Bucky visibly shook himself, smiling apologetically.

“Sorry, it’s just, I don’t know, weird, not weird just,” He laughed, squeezing his eyes shut. “Gonna’ take some getting used to.”

Steve nodded, understanding. “Trust me, I’m still getting used to it myself.” Bucky tentatively moved forwards and perched on a chair across from him. He was unsure how or where to start but made himself speak.

“So, I mean, God, where do you start here?”

“I don’t know. Honestly, I just, I try to keep him fed, sleeping, playing and outside every day. That’s as far as I got.” He says, deflating and Bucky shakes his head.

“That’s good, that’s all you can do, right? Damn, Steve, I wouldn’t have a clue what to do,” Bucky tries but Steve’s face screws up.

“I’ve never loved anything like I love Jimmy.” He looks down at his son for a second and Bucky waits for the rest. “I can’t afford to fuck this up. I **can’t**.” He’s painfully serious.

“You won’t,” Bucky says softly but it makes Steve look up to the ceiling.

“Don’t,” He sighs and turns his attention back to Jimmy.

Bucky shifts uncomfortably. He doesn’t know how to handle this Steve. It’s still Steve but he has this huge responsibility and rationally, Bucky knows nothing he says will change anything. Steve’s right – this is too important to fuck up. He knows how good of a parent Peggy would have been and no doubt that played on Steve’s mind more than he’d care to admit. But he knew Steve would make the greatest Dad. This kid would have more love than he’d know what to do with. Just felt like Steve was putting so much pressure on himself that he wasn’t taking the time to enjoy his situation. Bucky was pretty sure Steve wouldn’t even know how to try.

“Listen, uh, I have to take Jimmy to this parent meeting thing,” Steve starts as Jimmy finishes his bottle and he gets up. “Forgot it was happening this morning.”

Bucky’s mind flies back to the text and he’s fully ready to have to hightail it out of there. It was pretty likely Steve didn’t want him here now, he had enough on his plate and Bucky was a distraction – an uninvited distraction, no less. But what if he left and Steve never asked him back. Was he supposed to only see them on Jimmy’s birthday? Christ, he didn’t even know when that was. Did he even class as Steve’s best friend anymore or was he another acquaintance who would send microwavable meals and baby clothes and suggest grief counselling and never see him.

Steve walks over and places Jimmy in his arms and moves away to do some washing up. It short circuits his brain and Steve throws a smirk over his shoulder as he fills the sink up.

“I could hear you thinking,” He smiles, amused. “I was going to say, do you want to meet up later on. Get to know Jimmy a bit better and then we can hang out – it’s pretty overdue and there’s a lot to talk about.” He’s talking with his eyes focused on his hands and Bucky can see he’s steeling himself for some kind of rejection. He wonders how often Steve lets people hang out these days.

“Sure, that sounds great.” He says without hesitation, deliberately keeping his eyes on Jimmy so Steve thinks he misses his reaction. He hears his friend clear his throat.

“Okay, great. Uh, what do you think, six-thirty?” He offers and Bucky hums, bouncing Jimmy who is raising his little arms over his head and giggling the faster Bucky spins and jostles him.

“Look at this little adrenaline junkie,” He snorts a laugh when James tries to throw himself to the side in his excitement, trying to lean dangerously side to side. When Bucky pulls him in closer to keep his head straight the baby turns big affronted eyes up to him and it’s ridiculous how much they look like Steve’s. “Such a character,” He mutters, looking up to find Steve leaning against the counter, watching them happily.

“He’s hitting so many milestones way early, can already hold his head up most of the time and any day now he’ll be rolling over.” Steve huffs a breath and Bucky grins at him.

“Is Papa Steve worried he’s growing up too fast?” He teases and Steve rolls his eyes but he’s biting his lip and fidgeting with the cloth in his hands. Bucky looks down at Jimmy who is chewing his fist with incredible attention. “Don’t tell your Dad about the motorbike, alright, he’ll lose his shit.” He explains slowly and it draws a laugh out of Steve and Jimmy blinks at him in what he likes to think is agreement.

“Don’t know what I’ll do when he starts crawling,” He whines and Bucky laughs sympathetically.

He hums and brings Jimmy a little higher so he can press a kiss to his cheek which prompts a squirm and giggle. Chasing it, he blows a raspberry on the other cheek which earns him a delighted giggle so he does it again until Jimmy is flailing and laughing and Bucky is full belly laughing. Steve is laughing too when he comes over.

“He’s definitely gonna’ puke now, thanks, Buck,” He snorts but Bucky looks horrified.

“He’s gonna’ get sick?” He says stricken and Steve winces. Based on Steve’s old ailments, it’s justified to think Jimmy is likely to get sick easily. God knows Steve must worries about it enough.

“No, no, I just mean he’ll burp up some milk now, he had quite a lot and he always does that after he gets bounced around –”

“Shit, Steve, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know –”

“Buck, it’s not a big deal, he’s a baby, it’s all poo and sick and crying.” He laughs and Bucky relaxes a little but he’s clutching James to his chest protectively. “Anyway, I need to get him changed and dressed before we go out,”

“Say no more, I’ll get out of your hair and be back here for six-thirty sharp.” He snaps to attention and Steve smiles wryly.

He nods, taking Jimmy from Bucky’s outstretched arms, rearranging him a little so he’s comfortable against his chest. “Six-thirty?” Steve confirms and Bucky salutes.

“Captain.” Bucky barks out and Steve laughs, assured. The same day invite loosened the knot in his chest and made it a lot easier to leave. “Alright, I’ll see you later, hey, bye Jimmy, be good for your Dad, okay.” He reaches forward and smooths a hand over the baby’s head and James makes a little gasp at the contact which makes Bucky chuckle.

Steve is smiling at him but he has an odd look in his eye. Bucky doesn’t ask. He hugs his friend with one arm and sees himself out.

\--------------

Steve’s sat with Jimmy in his lap, listening to various other single parents in the circle talk about how they can’t get their baby to go to sleep or how they feel like they live in the grocery store. It’s mind-numbing. And weirdly, Steve completely gets it. He’s sympathetic, really he is, but this feels like some confession-style set up where they admit the shameful things they do and are absolved of their sins. It makes him so uncomfortable and the leader of the group always wants to hold Jimmy even though he clearly doesn’t like it.

Mark has just finished telling everyone how he bought four loaves of bread just as an excuse to leave the house and everyone is nodding and passing him tissues and the poor kid on his lap looks as irritated with his Dad as Steve is. He doesn’t want to be dismissive but the idea of telling these people how he can feel himself slipping away and how he sometimes wishes he’d get an asthma attack when he cries about Peggy and how he looks at Jimmy and wishes he had a better Dad. It’s not possible.

And then he blinks back to the present and Leah is talking about how she just wants to make her cat-hotel dream a reality but doesn’t have time with the baby who is mysteriously missing. As usual, he turns his attention to Jimmy, bouncing him on his knee, making little faces and letting him put his shirt sleeve in his mouth.

“Steven?”

He snaps his head up and the whole circle is looking at him.

“I’m sorry, what?” He asks, dazed.

“Would you care to share how you’ve been feeling?” The group leader, his name’s Adrien if Steve remembers correctly. His inner warning signs start whirring to life of foreign terrain and several hostiles approaching.

“Oh, uh, no, that’s alright, I’m happy just listening.” He shuffles in his seat, rearranging Jimmy as an excuse to look down and buy himself some time for someone else to jump in.

“Please, you’ll feel a lot better,” He says and it sounds almost taunting. “I’m sure you have a tonne of stuff to get off your chest about this little monster.” He cackles and Steve bristles, drawing Jimmy closer to him as Adrien is shifting closer. Adrien had better back off unless he wanted to lose those fingers he’s waggling. He looks around the circle for help but it’s like some cult, they’re all staring and he can see the chanting in their eyes of _‘join us join us join us’_.

“No. Thank you.” He says firmly and as politely as he can manage. He gulps down a wave of panic as he realises he’s found four potential escape routes already. Adrien is staring down at them relentlessly.

“It’s alright, Steven, you’re clearly a struggling first time parent and it’s perfectly normal to feel frustration, confusion and even a little resentment towards your child.” He grins down at Jimmy making grabby hands and Jimmy starts wailing.

“You know what, I think I’m done,” He hoists Jimmy up, leaving without a word.

Finally outside, he leans against the warm brickwork and sighs heavily. He knows he reacted badly but the idea of talking about everything he was feeling or **anything** he was feeling made his stomach churn. And everything about that group felt condemning and scandalous like they’d done something wrong just by being single parents. He shouldn’t be made to feel like he should be embarrassed about his situation. Also, Steve didn’t cope well with people thinking they could just _take_ his child from him.

Sure, he got frustrated at times and he was going in completely blind but he had never _resented_ James. And he was certainly never going to bitch about his child to a bunch of creepy, boundary-less strangers. He shushes Jimmy who is just sniffling now, distracted by the cars and noise which is keeping him quiet.

“I’m sorry about that, buddy,” He huffs, feeling stressed, pressing a kiss on the top of the baby’s head. “Should have just stayed at home with Uncle Buck, huh?” He mutters.

James peers up at him with a sniffle, like he can read his Dad’s mind.

“Yeah, I know,” He smiles at his son.

Looking around, the street was a calm, welcome relief to the shrinking box of Single Parent Support Group. He feels a little foolish now for reacting so strongly but that didn’t mean he was going back. He mentally listed the things he needed to do today before he could kick back with Bucky later. It was still early and he didn’t want to take Jimmy to the park before lunch because then he went down for a nap far easier.

He decided to visit Sam at the VA. He texted him to let him know they were coming and Sam had replied happily that he’d take his break with them. He chose to walk rather than get a cab, enjoying the breeze and taking care to shield James from the sun.

Jimmy was a responsive baby, he was already curious, all big eyes and mindless babbling as though he was trying to explain what his thoughts on everything were. He wishes Peggy could see him like this. The familiar wave of nausea that followed that thought crashed into him and he breathed through it, using Jimmy as an anchor until it passed. He vaguely wondered when that would stop happening.

He was relieved when they arrived at the VA, Sam had already encouraged him to talk to as many people as he could and get out more and it made sense in moments like this. When he felt suffocated by his own thoughts it was a relief to see a friendly face.

“Is that a Rogers baby I see?” Tony’s voice bellowed down the corridor making a few people jump or turn in shock. He saw Sam wave down at them and Steve sighed to see Tony happily skipping their way. He definitely didn’t have the energy to handle this. “Wow, I think he’s doubled in size, can I take him to the shop run some tests?”

“What?” Steve instinctually clutches Jimmy closer in alarm, too run down to recognise Tony being Tony. However, there was a small chance he was serious – it was Tony, after all.

“Relax, Kanga, no potentially explosive devices in the workshop,” He grinned, leaning in to tweak James’ nose. “Isn’t that right, you little hazard, huh?” He seemed to be enjoying himself and James had taken a liking to Tony fairly early – probably because he refused to hold him, playing hard to get appeared to work. He was leaning over in Steve’s arms to try and get closer and Tony backed off.

“Yeah, nice try, minion but Armani doesn’t have the same roguish charm when featured with spit-up,” He was already checking something on his phone and Jimmy made a noise of offense. “It’ll just take a minute, jeez,” Tony defended, eyes still on the screen and it struck Steve that he really wasn’t necessary in this interaction.

Sam reached them, having walked at a normal pace and beamed at James.

“Hey, little man!” He laughed happily when Jimmy’s little arms launched out towards him. Steve happily passed off his son to Sam, one of the few people he would trust with him. “You look exhausted.” Sam comments and Steve is so tired it takes him an embarrassingly long moment to realise Sam is talking to him. It seemed futile to try and deny it.

“Must be a side effect of not sleeping,” He jokes and Tony laughs but Sam gets this little worried look on his face and Steve waves him off, stretching his baby-free arms. “I’m fine, just had a few surprises.”

“Oh, did Dad find your porn,” Tony says to Jimmy because he seems to enjoy annoying Steve by mainly addressing his child.

“Tony!” Steve admonishes, blushing when someone walks by and overhears them.

“What are you doing with magazines anyway, it’s 2018, you have _got_ to go digital.” He continued indulgently laughing at himself when it becomes clear Jimmy won’t gratify him.

“What are you doing here, Tony?” Steve asks, sighing again. He does that a lot recently.

“He’s making sure we’re coming to his party,” Sam answers, spinning Jimmy back and forth to make him giggle and Steve groans a little.

“I’ll take that as a noise of excitement for my birthday extravaganza which may I remind you, you are required to attend because little did you know that birthday card was _legally binding_ , I’m just making sure you don’t forget and cost us all a law suit,” He finally pockets his phone and smiles up at them, care-free.

“You better not be expecting presents, man, not after last year.” Sam says pointedly and Tony laughs but holds up his hands.

“Your presence is gift enough plus I’m pretty sure I can talk Pepper into letting me pick and buy my own presents.”

“Something tells me that’s not gonna’ fly,” Steve snorts and Tony frowns, getting his phone back out with an expression that says ‘ _we’ll see about that_ ’.

“What were these surprises then?” Sam reminds, shifting Jimmy to his hip and letting him play with his lanyard.

Steve blinks at him and then his brain catches up. The sleep thing is a running joke but maybe he should think about that a little more seriously.

“Right, uh, well, Bucky came over and, well, he knows everything now.”

Sam’s eyes widen comically. “No way, how did it go?” Steve laughs a little and shrugs.

“It was a little.. messy, but, we got through it and he stayed over and he’s coming over again tonight and we’re gonna’ talk everything out.”

“That’s great! Probably best he beat you to the punch before you tied yourself in knots,” Sam laughs kindly and Steve winces but smiles because he’s right. “And how’d he react to this little one?” Jimmy was industriously chewing on the lanyard, his eyes on Sam’s tie clip but Sam knew better than to let him grab it.

“After the initial, uh,” He struggled for the words.

“What the fuck?” Tony supplied helpfully and Steve nodded.

“Yeah, he sort of calmed down and then once he met him, well, just like everybody else,” Steve snorted a laugh at the little boy trying to reach for Sam’s tie. “Putty in his hands.”

“Figures.” Sam hums, happy with his armful of baby. “You kind of lucked out with this guy, he’s weirdly chilled.”

“Not with everyone, trust me.” Steve scoffs.

“So, baby is still cute, friends reunited, key topics covered, back to the party,” Tony interjected and Steve and Sam synchronised their eye rolls and sighs. “Neat trick guys, so it’s Saturday night, you’ll have to stay over for various reasons, so you –” He points to Sam.

“Mae sure you’ve booked work off, and you –” He turns on Steve. “Make sure you have a babysitter who’s happy to be on call for forty eight hours. Oh, and your pal, Bucky is invited because you’ll be infinitely less of a buzzkill if you have your boy with you.” He’s a machine, he’s typing one handed and he’s not even looking at the screen.

“Listen, Tony, I don’t know about –”

“Rogers, I have it here from a medical professional,” Tony starts solemnly.

“I am not a medical professional.” Sam pipes up but Tony ignores him.

“A _medical_ professional, you have to get out more, your child will benefit from time with others and it’s a healthy exercise for any single parent.” Sounds like he’s quoting something or someone.

“Even if –”

“And as for your friend, he’s on military leave and just found out his best friend has a son he’s raising on his own, he’ll want as much time with you as he can get from the sounds of it.” Tony cuts him off, freakishly reading his mind.

“I’ll invite him. Whether he shows or not is up to him. And I’ll try and find a sitter.”

“Pepper will just get you May again, that woman is a reported miracle worker and this party is another act of biblical proportions so stop making excuses. I’ll see you there.”

After Tony leaves and Steve is sat outside on one of the benches in the sun with Sam and two coffees, Jimmy still in Sam’s lap, they can actually talk like **adults**.

“I can’t wait for you to get trashed.” Sam grins and Steve groans. Apparently not.

“Tony has no concept of limits, that alcohol will probably kill us, he doesn’t understand normality, like a couple of beers.”

“Or that most people don’t work on Sundays.” Sam laughs through a sip of his coffee. “But on this occasion, he is actually right,”

“The government invented the common cold to make pharmaceutical profits?” Steve snarks and Sam narrows his eyes.

“Not about that, about you getting out.” His expression softens a little and Steve steels himself. “I know you’re scared to leave Jimmy alone and you feel guilty for having fun of your own.” There it is, Steve feels the wave again, staring at Jimmy with sad eyes until it passes.

“Yeah,” He allows finally.

“I’m not gonna’ tell you that you shouldn’t feel that stuff, but I will tell you it’s normal.”

“Why don’t I feel normal?” He asks and it’s painfully honest. Sam’s eyes turn a little sad at the corners now.

“You’re not just a single parent Steve. You’re a vet, you’ve seen some shit in the field, you were dealing with that before you were a Dad. And you’re dealing with bereavement. Losing a spouse is one of the most traumatic things a person can go through.” Sam does this. He goes from childish grin and poking fun to trained professional who can point out all of Steve’s weaknesses and lay them bare.

“Damn. And I still look this good?” He goes for light because they’ve been over this and Steve doesn’t have answers for any of it yet. Mercifully, Sam can’t help the snort of laughter.

“Good enough to get wasted, isn’t that right, Jimmy?”

“God, everybody’s trying to corrupt my son.” He heaves a long-suffering sigh.

“Invite your pal, I have a feeling he’ll help you ease up.”

It’s second nature to lean in and pluck a piece of leaf off of Jimmy’s shoulder before he decides to eat it. He thinks about actually going to a party and drinking and for two seconds not obsessing about James. It’s almost impossible to imagine but he had a life before all of this happened, would it really be so awful if he kept a little piece of it now?

“Now. Ring him now before your head explodes.” Sam scoffs and Steve huffs and puffs but gets up and walks a little way away to make the call. He didn’t need Sam to hear him floundering.

It rings for long enough that Steve thinks he’ll be let off the hook and can happily march back over to Sam and announce it was out of his hands. But then of course not.

“Hey, Steve, everything okay?” Bucky sounds a little wary and he must think Steve is ringing to cancel.

“Hey, Buck, we’re still on for tonight, I was just ringing to invite you to a, uh, party, actually,” He scuffs his foot on the ground. This is weird. It feels weird. He’s out of practice socialising.

“Oh.” Bucky sounds just as taken aback.

“Yeah, you don’t have to, basically, you remember my friend Tony Stark, it’s his birthday thing and he really wants me there and he kind of extended the invitation to you.”

“Right, what’s, uh, what about Jimmy?”

Steve waves his hand even though Bucky can’t hear him. “Oh, it’s alright, I have a great Nanny and she should be free but it will be my first night out since he was born,” He tacks on and Bucky makes a little hum Steve can’t decipher over the phone.

“Okay, well, when’s the party?”

“Saturday. Saturday night and it’ll be ridiculous and over the top but we can hide in the corner and drink and talk whilst everyone else goes crazy, it, it might actually be a good time?” He screws up his face because he doesn’t quite believe it yet and judging from Bucky’s laugh on the other end of the phone, he’s not buying it either.

“Yeah, can’t hurt, can it? Also, I’m pretty sure my friend Natasha’s back for the weekend so do you think she’d be alright to come too?” Bucky ventures and Steve laughs, trying to imagine Tony turning anyone away on a celebration of himself.

“Yeah, more the merrier, I’ll tell Tony to expect a few extra people.” He feels a lot better now knowing Bucky’s coming with him and will help distract him from missing James.

“Great. We’re still on for six-thirty, right? Because I already bought some beers in preparation,” Bucky laughs easily and Steve returns it. God, he’s missed Bucky.

“Definitely. Six-thirty.” They end the call after that and Steve shuffles back to the table where Sam is sat looking incredibly smug for a man with a baby chewing on his tie. “He’s coming, alright, happy?”

“Oh, I am so ready for Saturday night.” He grins back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think and any ideas you have  
> fully asking for prompts - let me know what you want to read  
> thanks for reading & commenting its so lovely   
> b x


	4. fingerpainting for the bereaved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been so long, i'm climbing the walls at home now i've graduated and NEED to move out and have been focusing on my other writing to get myself through things  
> anyway i'm happy to post another chapter as i quite like this little story and i feel it's going to be a behemoth  
> i hope you enjoy - let me know what you think x

Steve finishes up with Sam, promising they’ll meet up once before the party. He gives James his lunch and they spend just under an hour at the park. It’s longer than usual but Steve needed the air. He gets his punishment when James starts getting agitated on the walk home. He starts crying when they reach Steve’s apartment building, quiet at first but then louder. He takes the elevator, even though he hates them, just to be quicker and winces a little at the amplification of James’ wails.

He’s shushing and soothing as best as he can but James is too tired and needs changing. He knows without even checking, he wonders if that earns him any Dad points or just earns him back the ones he lost for being at the park for too long.

He changes James and tries to put him down to sleep for a good twenty minutes but the baby is too worked up. Steve’s back up plan is to make up a little more formula to feed him. He feeds him in the nursery and he mercifully settles, only releasing the occasional sniffle. Finally able to put him down for a nap almost an hour later than usual, Steve slumps on the sofa for just a minute before deciding to take advantage of the few moments of peace he had and went and found his laptop.

Making himself comfortable he pulls up his emails, preferring to check them on his laptop rather than clumsily mess around on his phone. As expected, there are what seems like hundreds from Tony – birthday party updates. He has to filter them into a separate folder just to see anything else. When his inbox clears a little he sees he has several follow up emails from his old supervisor. There’s even one mentioning the possibility of giving him an honorary award. His stomach churns at the thought of a hall of people pitying him as he stands on a stage with a decorative medal and decorative smile pinned on him. He clicks off of the email. His eyes are watching the seconds flick past on his laptop’s clock and he’s drifted off before he realises it.

Something startles him awake. The baby isn’t crying and he couldn’t have been asleep for more than twenty minutes but he jolts up, shoving the laptop aside and running to James’ room. He’s not careful enough with the door in his haste and it thuds against the wall. He freezes but it’s too late and James starts crying, loud jarring cries.

“Oh God, I’m sorry,” Steve says soothingly as he hurries to scoop his son up in his arms. “Hey, it’s alright, you’re alright, I didn’t mean to scare you, buddy,” He mumbles gently shifting his weight from foot to foot and it works a little, James’ cries dampening into heavy sniffles and whimpers.

Steve peers down into his eyes, still tired and full of tears and feels a tightening in his chest.

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m not better at this,” He whispers, throat constricting. “You’ve got the whole baby thing down, crying, sleeping, cute and I’m, well, it’s, maybe you’re getting short changed, pal,” He mumbles with a sigh. He squeezes his eyes shut and presses a kiss to his son’s head, feeling painfully inadequate. This little boy deserved the world. Steve wasn’t good enough.

But there wasn’t time for that. Wallowing wasn’t going to do a baby any good and he had to put his Dad hat on. He’d read about babies at this age starting to develop their sense of touch and they should experience all sort of different textures. Steve placed James in his bouncer and sat down in front of him, handing him a caterpillar which was designed full of different textures to stimulate baby’s senses.

Jimmy launched it across the room.

“Woah, excuse me young man,” Steve scoffed, amused as he went to retrieve it. He tried again undeterred, using both hands to make the caterpillar dance in James’ lap. “See, look, wow, Mr. Caterpillar sure knows how to use those legs, I think he was in a dance crew, look at him – wait, no J- Jimmy, the cater – _and_ that’s my hand.” He sighed. Jimmy had bypassed the colourful, recommended (expensive) caterpillar to chew on Steve’s hand with vigour.

“Why do I even buy you toys, huh?” He uses his other hand to tickle Jimmy’s tummy and grinned when the baby shrieked in delight. “Yeah, that’s right, you do the crime, you do the time, face the tickle monster!” He doubled his efforts, laughing with his son when he giggled. Eventually he let up and James went back to chewing on his hand quietly, exerted from the tickling episode.

He put on a bit of TV but didn’t keep it on long because the kids programme host freaked him out and he was already concerned about corrupting James’ brain with mindless television. Instead he put on some nursery rhymes quietly in the background and read him books. He was halfway through Billy the Friendless Robot when Jimmy started fidgeting.

“Yeah, I know, s’not a page turner, is it?” Steve hums in agreement, slinging the book aside as he hunted for another toy. “Why is Billy surprised he doesn’t have any friends, he doesn’t say please and thank you! You’re always gonna’ say please and thank you because despite all evidence to the contrary, I am gonna’ raise you right, might have to bribe you with milk but still – hey, hey, it’s okay, hey,” James started crying abruptly, seemingly out of nowhere and Steve abandoned the train plushie.

“Shall we try a sleepy song?” He started to sing and James downright screamed in protest, raising the volume of his cries. “Okay, feelings not hurt,” Steve cringed as he quickly got James out of the bouncer to start walking him around.

“Hey, what about, what about your toys, huh?” Steve walked them briskly to the nursery to get James’ favourite patchwork teddy, aptly named Patch, one of the few toys he and Peggy had bought before he was born. However, probably thinking a nap was coming, James erupted in even louder shouts and Steve was panicking as the baby kicked and screamed. “Okay, okay, okay, what about, what about a, a messy game, will that work, you, you child of chaos!” He babbled under his breath and took them to the kitchen, gently wrestling James back into his bouncer and placing him next to the fridge.

He scrambled with the pots of some baby friendly paint he’d had in his cupboards, a gift maybe from Sam, he wasn’t sure. He found a plastic plate and squirted seven colours onto the plate, bringing it down with him as he sat down. He carefully held the plate out to James, tentatively placing his finger in the splodge of blue and moving it around, making a noise of interest. James’ eyes flicked comically from Steve’s hand in the paint to his face and Steve could have laughed at how clearly you could see the gears turning behind his eyes.

He blessedly stopped crying and Steve regained his composure, not shouting in victory, he’d been burnt before. He gently took James’ hand and held it above the purple splodge, letting go so James could touch it at his own pace. However, when he let go of the baby’s little hand, James let it slap down into the paint, making it splatter across his babygrow and Steve’s trousers. Steve stopped breathing. _Please like it please like it please like it_ , he prayed.

James’ wide eyes jumped up to him and he made a little gasp which startled a chuckle from Steve. Encouraged, James lifted his hand and slammed it onto the plate, his tiny fist crumpling the plate and making paint spill all over him, no doubt ruining the bouncer and pooling on the floor.

“Yeah, okay, Hulk Hogan, cool it,” Steve laughed, reaching up onto the counter and bringing another plate down and the paint bottles to squirt more paint onto it. Watching him, James looked fascinated. “Let’s try a tattoo, huh?” Steve murmured as he guided Jimmy’s hand into the red paint and traced his little fingers over his arm so Jimmy could paint on him.

“That fun?” He asked and Jimmy brought his hand up at down, planting a little red hand print on Steve’s arm. Steve beamed at him. “I love it. Clearly inspired by Pablo’s early work.”

He got a little orange paint and painted a dot on Jimmy’s arm, gasping when he did it and making him laugh. Steve repeated it, gasping louder with each dot and dotting him more and more quickly, making the baby giggle madly. He dabbed Jimmy’s fingers in the pink paint and brought them up to draw a nose and whiskers on his face which was apparently _unbelievably funny_. Steve had never seen Jimmy laugh so hard, his little cheeks were pink and his gummy smile was infectious.

This continued, covering each other in paint, Steve’s shirt ruined but he didn’t care. He was having so much fun. Real fun. It didn’t matter he was tired. It didn’t matter that he didn’t feel like the best Dad. Because right now Jimmy was giggling away and Steve couldn’t stop laughing.

When the paint started seeping over the edge of the bouncer Steve lifted James out of it, cuddling him. James took this moment to shove his electric blue covered hand into Steve’s hair and pull it out making a noise that sounded suspiciously like ‘uh oh’ making Steve erupt with laughter.

Catching his breath through his laughter Steve tried to speak. “Uh oh is right! I’m not cool enough for blue hair!” James laughed almost evilly and Steve spluttered a laugh, tickling his son’s sides so he burrowed his head into Steve’s shoulder as he giggled.

“You’re not supposed to agree with that, you’re supposed to say, Daddy you _are_ cool!” He snorted and James was hitting his hands against his chest, making more ‘art’ Steve called it, when there was a knock at the door.

He climbed to his feet, lifting Jimmy with him, ignoring the huge mess on the kitchen floor and the unusable bouncer. They walked to the door and for once, he didn’t worry about who was behind it before happily pulling it open.

Bucky looked like he had been about to speak but was brought up short, a smile overtaking his features and a glint of amusement in his eyes as he took in the pair. Jimmy made a loud noise and slapped another blue splotch into Steve’s chest. Steve chuckled down at his son and then looked back to his friend who had a bag in his hand and another one slung over his shoulder and looked at ease and comfy which was a rare sight with Bucky.

“Hey, you’re just in time!” Steve grinned and Bucky snorted.

“For what, the renaissance?”

“And you say I’m a nerd, no you’re just in time for clean up!” He announces, laughing loudly when Bucky starts edging away.

“Yeah, you know what, I’m early, think I got an army thing I gotta’ take care of, should only take an hour,” He winked and grinned, letting Steve lead him into the apartment. “Already filling his head with all of that artist crap, he lives for dance, Steve!”

“Just because my infant son already has more coordination than you, don’t get snarky.” Steve scoffed and Bucky made a noise of offense. They walked back to the obscene mess in the kitchen.

“Love what you’ve done with the place.” Bucky snarked and Steve threw a look over his shoulder, smirking.

“Right, bath time, I think.” Steve concluded, the paint starting to dry on his face and arms, cracking a little. Bucky clapped his hands together and then shrugged, looking unsure, making Steve smile. “I’ll take point.”

They went to the bathroom with the baby bath tub and Steve balances Jimmy on his hip as he turns on the taps and lets them run. Bucky is sat on the closed lid of the toilet just politely watching as Steve routinely gets out Jimmy’s changing mat and places it on the floor. James is still delighted to be a human rainbow and Steve hates to take it away from him but the paint will stop being fun when it completely dries and gets flaky so better to act early.

“Okay, hold still for me Jimmy,” Steve says, grabbing Jimmy’s legs and waving them, making his son laugh. “Jimmy, I said still, come on, help me out here.” He switched to waving his little arms wildly earning him more laughter and meant he could quickly slip the babygrow off, slinging it into the wash basket he was pretty sure was empty. He tickled James’ belly with one hand, leaning over the edge of the tub with his other to check the temperature with his elbow, shutting off the hot tap and letting the cold run for another few seconds to get it perfect.

“You’re really good at this.” Bucky spoke and Steve had almost forgotten he was there. He smiled awkwardly, unsure. Bucky didn’t push it, but didn’t take it back, smiling earnestly at him and it warmed his chest up.

Testing the water again, this time he was satisfied. He lifted Jimmy up and gently placed him in the baby bath. He’d heard horror stories about kids and baths but Jimmy was chilled about being bathed as long as Steve wasn’t more than a metre away.

The bath was quick as the baby was getting tired and Steve was guiltily eager to get him off to bed so he could hang out with Bucky. Luckily the paint formula he’d made up was amazingly easy to get off, leaving the bath water a watercolour masterpiece. He drained the water and wrapped Jimmy up in a baby towel with a little hood and bunny ears on top.

“Could you hold him for a sec, I just need to get him a babygrow to sleep in.” Steve said and Bucky hesitated for a split-second before reaching out, taking Jimmy’s little bundled up form and rocking him gently, chuckling at the bunny ears.

He quickly got a fresh diaper and clean babygrow to put him into and joined the other two back in the bathroom.

“Alright, little guy,” He said softly as he hoisted his son up and placed him gently back on the changing mat. James’ eyes were drooping as he chewed on his fist sleepily. Steve was already a pro at the quick change and post-bath time routine, knowing speed was paramount. It was more or less a military operation in its emphasis on precision. “I’m gonna’ feed him quick and then he should go down alright,” Steve said quietly and Bucky nodded patiently, following him out to the kitchen.

Bucky was funny like this. He was such a consistent personality, when everything else around Steve shifted and threw him sideways, Bucky always kept him upright. But he was adaptable, it’s what made him such a good fit in the army. He changed so quickly to suit his surroundings. And here he was now, quiet, helpful, observant, soaking in all the new information about babies and parenting because it was an area of expertise he was lacking in. Steve wished he’d had the opportunity to watch someone else parent first, maybe get an idea of what to do before diving in headfirst.

James dutifully drank his milk, slower than usual and he didn’t quite finish it all but the sleepy gust of air he released made it clear he was finished eating.

“He’s really wiped out.” Bucky muttered and Steve’s lips quirked.

“Yeah, we’ve been out all day, lots of people and places it’s been, tiring,” He could feel the weight of his own exhaustion pulling down his shoulders and not for the first time he wondered what was acceptable new baby sleepiness and what was something darker and grief driven that he was refusing to acknowledge.

Bucky smiled and waved him on when he went past to put James to bed as if he was going to wait in the living room but then couldn’t help himself and followed them into the nursery making Steve chuckle lightly. He knew lingering after you put a baby down was just tempting fate and so ushered Bucky out of the nursery, carefully closing the door and releasing a heavy sigh that was embarrassingly heartfelt.

Back in the living room, the hush that had fallen over them felt difficult to break.

“Beer?” Bucky offered at last, not obnoxiously loud, but not trying overly hard to whisper. It put Steve at ease and he nodded happily, slumping down on the sofa.

Bucky handed him a beer and they both took a moment to just sit and drink in each other’s company. It had been a while.

“This really is a nice place,” Bucky said absently and Steve hummed in question. “You’re breaking it in so it’s not quite Steve-ified yet but you’ll get there.” He joked and something warmed and bristled at the same time. Steve didn’t like the feeling. It was unsettling to have Bucky’s words trigger things that made him feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t that Bucky had said anything wrong, he’d just easily highlighted something Steve had been trying to ignore since he moved in. It was what Bucky always did.

“Yeah, m’not much of a home maker,” He joked weakly but Bucky made a noise of disagreement.

“That ain’t true, I would like to remind you of the secret den,” He said matter-of-factly and Steve snorted.

“The secret den being the space under your bed when you were 12 which I put some dumb drawings up in,” He scoffed dismissively but Bucky smacked his arm lightly.

“The very same, that was my favourite place in the whole house, felt like it was made just for me. Special.” He says carefully, taking a glug of beer and giving Steve a moment to process the statement.

Bucky had been a warm, happy kid. He’d taken Steve in and added him to the family with ease but when his Dad died it was like he closed off a little. He didn’t roughhouse with his sisters’ anymore or back talk his Mom, he cut the grass and paired socks and Steve remembers his Mom asking him to keep an eye on him. It was like as soon as his Dad died Bucky grew up, not as he should have an never entirely but there was definitely a time. There was him before and there was him after.

Steve forcing him to shimmy on their backs side by side under the bed to see all the pictures he’d tacked up and a little sign that read ‘Bucky & Steve’s Secret Den’ prompted the first real smile Steve had seen since his Dad had died. It had solidified something between them and Steve hadn’t thought about that for a long time.

“Not sure pinning up pictures is going to make me feel better,” Steve mumbles almost without meaning to. It’s a throw away comment which of course means it’s more honest than half the things that come out of Steve’s mouth these days.

He takes one look at Bucky’s face, carefully clear with just a hint of scepticism and sighs. Reaching over the edge of the sofa he grabs his sketchbook that’s been left there, untouched for a few weeks because it _wasn’t helping_. No matter what anybody said. He handed it to Bucky without a word and Bucky blinked in surprise. Justifiably, Steve thinks, he doesn’t like anyone rifling through his sketchbook not even Bucky but he waves a hand as if to say _‘have at it’_.

The sketchbook was given to him at the funeral from Peggy’s parents and at first even he’d thought maybe it was a good idea. Art had helped a lot before, maybe it would be just the creative outlet to help absorb his grief.

But he could see the truth on Bucky’s face as he flipped through the pages, getting slower and slower, less eager to turn over and see another picture of Peggy laughing that just _wasn’t **right**_. Or another picture of James in her arms, or the sketch that turned into the coffin, or the one that turned into the hospital or the cemetery or the boxed up flat. Steve’s muscles were tensed something fierce as Bucky finally reached the last page. He couldn’t even remember what he’d intended to draw but it was ruined in a mess of angry scribbles and a mark of clearly snapped lead.

Bucky closed the book reverently and turned anxious eyes onto his friend.

“Shit.” He murmured and Steve wanted to cry he could agree so whole-heartedly. “Memory can be such a bitch can’t it,” He continued and he stretched an arm out to gently hold onto Steve’s shoulder, a comforting weight.

Steve suddenly felt embarrassed, self-conscious. He could see the scene from the outside and it made him cringe. Poor Bucky having to sit awkwardly pretending to have a beer and a good time with the guy he was obligated to listen to wallowing in his own grief and self-pity and failing as a Father. He pulled his shoulder away and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“This was probably a bad idea.” He mumbles sadly.

“What, why?”

“Because this, it’s not gonna’ be fun, Buck.” He laughs without humour and Bucky is fixing him with a disapproving look.

“It doesn’t have to be,” He said seriously and Steve was already exhausted and felt guilty that now Bucky had to deal with him.

“I, I just need to get through this, this shit bit, and when I can,” He gulped noisily, “When I can function again, when I can throw on a fucking convincing smile and my hands don’t shake and I’m not feeling so fucking awful, _then_ I can be around people but, but this isn’t going to benefit anybody.” He rests his head in his hands supported on his elbows and doesn’t dare meet Bucky’s eye. This is the most honestly he’s spoken to anybody since Peggy died. And Bucky came for a beer.

“You’re my best friend, you know that?” He says and Steve peers up at him in confusion at this response.

“What?”

Bucky huffed and fiddled with the label on the beer bottle. “Probably don’t say it enough but it’s true. It’s my Ma and sisters, the squad and you. That’s it for me.” He has a frown playing with his features. Steve doesn’t say anything.

“I know you feel like everyone’s pitying you right now and, I can see you second-guessing yourself and honestly I don’t, I don’t have any fucking clue how to help you right now except, just, just, I’m here.” He looks up and makes sure Steve meets his eye. “I’m here and you’re, you can absolutely push people away and feel like shit it’s, it’s par for the course but, if you need a, a babysitter or, or a mechanic or a punchbag or just, just a fucking drink. I’m here.” He gestures to himself with a twinge of apology in his tone like he’s not wording this how he wants and Steve can’t reassure him because if he tries to talk he’ll probably crumble.

Bucky’s here and he’s tacking his shitty drawings up on the wall the only way he knows how and the only way that Steve can’t bring himself to decline. They are quiet for a few minutes.

“I miss her.” He says it so quietly it hurts even more and he screws up his face and runs his hands through his hair.

“’Course you do, she was awesome.” Bucky says, matching his volume and it at least draws a snort of laughter from Steve.

“I have this tiny kid and he, he just needs to have the best life, the _best_ life because it’s, it’s already screwed up and I’m just… letting him down.” His voice cracks and his eyes sting and Bucky doesn’t hesitate now but quickly moves over, slinging his arm around him.

“You get up every day even though she’s gone, you’re doing it, Steve,” He says fiercely, squeezing Steve’s shoulders.

“It’s not just that – what if he gets sick, God, there were so many times I nearly – ” He made a despairing sound and felt Bucky’s arms tighten – he tried to focus on it.

“It’s not going to happen, he’s a strong kid, we got better doctors and medicine and he wasn’t born premature, right?”

“No, he was right on time.” For some reason this nearly tips him over the edge. “God, I just wanted to be normal with you, for us to just be us,”

“We’ve never been normal. We’re going to a party on Saturday,” And he says it with such affront that Steve coughs up a laugh.

“Sure you want to come to that?” He tests and Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Is that a dare?” He teases with a grin.

“It’s a hopeful invitation.” Steve admits sheepishly and Bucky’s smile falls from his face in surprise. “Be a lot easier if you’re there.” He adds huffing an embarrassed laugh.

“Then I’m there.” Bucky says with a shrug, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and smirking when Steve bats them off. “Now I recommend we watch a shitty film with our one beer and get embarrassingly tipsy.” He beams at Steve and he’s being nice, Bucky’s drank in the army so his tolerance won’t be as low as Steve’s but Steve brings his bottle up anyway to toast against Bucky’s.

“Here’s to that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed, will try and get the next chapter up soon  
> please let me know what you think and what more you'd like to read  
> have a good day lovelies   
> b x

**Author's Note:**

> triggers - minor character death, grief  
> disclaimer: i love peggy carter alright good glad we cleared that up  
> please let me know what you think, love to hear from you, i'll have the next chapter up asap bc i am as impatient as you   
> b x


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